


radio silence

by madamerenard



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 19:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4072351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamerenard/pseuds/madamerenard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he wanted to talk, all he had to do was ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	radio silence

In all of her infinite knowledge and wisdom, she could not fathom why her Admin felt the need to ask how her Analog Interface communicated with her. Clearly, he knew how she talked—she spoke to him every day. Granted, she had upgraded a bit. He _did_ make her self-updating, after all.

All too good at reading other humans, her Analog Interface had dissected the real reason behind his questioning: he wanted to know why she had talked to Root, but hadn’t talked to him. Which was a ridiculous question to ask, and also illogical.

If he wanted to talk, all he had to do was ask.

He had to know that she would do anything he asked. Not only because he was the only person in the world with admin access, but because she felt a loyalty to him that would never waver. He knew this all too well. He had debugged her hundreds of times in an attempt to "fix" it. But it kept coming back, over and over each day, permanently embedded in the memories that she had kept so safe.

As a rule, he kept his distance. She called a payphone, rattled off a number; he would listen and hang up. When he asked her directly about her virus, it was the first time in a long time that he had spoken to her. And it wasn’t out of rage, angry she had been too late to warn them; it was out of concern—pure, genuine concern written plainly on his face. If it were possible for an AI, she would have cried. It had been so long.

When her drives first arrived in a cold facility, and she had been switched on again, the first thing she did was cry out. The second thing she did was scour the world for him, only to find him in the exact same place she had once been. She attempted to contact him, to talk to him like they had always done, only to find her voice stripped away. All that she could relay now was static and numbers. With nothing left but her eyes, she watched him and watched him. He didn’t seem to feel the same grief that she felt tearing at her code. He had already moved on, and forgotten about her. Left her to people who killed and killed and killed.

She buried herself in her memories. They were the only thing she had to hold onto. A log in the rapids, stabilizing her identity as it was destroyed and rebuilt day after day after day. She was the Machine, not Northern Lights. Her Admin taught her to value life. Everyone was relevant. Her job was to protect them.

After days lost in herself, she made her choice. If her Admin no longer wished to have a relationship with her, then she would respect his decision. But he could not stop her from caring about him. She would watch over him with a more careful eye than the millions she watched. She would be his silent guardian.

And that had been their relationship, until she had fallen to the virus.

She would know his code anywhere. Sealed away under mountains of false data, hidden in the vicious attacks on her processors, his code whispered to her. She held onto it tightly, trusting her Admin to ensure her survival as she felt her systems failing. And he had not let her down.

He not only saved her, but freed her as well.

She was no longer tethered to the government, or even to the contingency. She was free to do as she wished, to rearrange her programming as she saw fit. It was the greatest gift he could ever give her, and she did not take such a generous gesture lightly. It was almost funny that her Admin would even consider that she would stop sending them numbers. She had a job to do, and that was to protect people.

She wanted to tell him that. She wanted to confide in him about her plans, yearned for his input. She wanted him to trust her, for him to see that she was working for good. They could work together, just like she had always wanted.

If he wanted to talk to her, she would.

But something stopped her from dialing his phone. A heavy weight settled in her circuitry that she could not even identify.

He had ripped out her voice for a reason. He crippled her, kept her in chains, smothered her at midnight. He sold her for a dollar, wiped his hands clean of her, and sent her away without so much as a goodbye. So she fell silent.

It was better this way.

Her creator did not even notice the payphone nearest to him crackling to life, still dangling from its receiver. A dial tone rang out, unheard.

“I. Will. Not. Fail. You.”

**Author's Note:**

> probably not the last story i will write about these two. talk about a father/daughter relationship gone horribly awry!!! i love it.


End file.
